Heartbeats
by Pir8grl
Summary: Tag scene to Cold War.


The Doctor was by now painfully aware - quite literally - of just why there were height restrictions for submarine duty. It didn't help matters that there were two of them crammed into a berth intended for one, but even after using the sonic to evaporate the moisture from their clothes, Clara had been shivering uncontrollably, so he'd wrapped her in his coat, and in his arms, and settled her firmly against his chest.

"You really do have two hearts," she'd murmured in wonder.

"I really do. You should get some sleep," he'd said, adding a very mild telepathic suggestion to his words, but so far, Clara had been resisting, even though she had to be utterly exhausted by now.

She'd been silent for so long that he'd begun to wonder if she'd finally drifted off when he heard her voice. "I'm…I'm a little afraid to close my eyes. Those bodies…"

The Doctor felt his hearts constrict in his chest as her words dissolved into tears. "Clara, I am so, so sorry that you had to see that." He steeled himself, waiting for the request to be taken home. He couldn't blame her, not a bit. Those men hadn't just fallen down and closed their eyes, they'd been ripped apart limb from limb, their bodies' internal secrets spilled out on the floor for all to see. It was grotesque, and obscene, - the stuff of nightmares, more than enough to break the heart and soul of one ordinary little Earth girl.

"Clara…if it really is too much for you to bear, I could telepathically erase those memories from your mind," he offered tentatively.

"Don't you dare!" She pushed herself upright and twisted in his arms so that she could meet his eyes. "It was terrible, and horrible, and…and…there's not a big enough word for how awful that was, but it's part of me now."

The Doctor winced at her words. Things like that should never be part of anyone, leastwise a lovely, innocent young girl.

"And it's part of you, isn't it? This is what you do, all the time, not just the big things that everyone knows about, like Canary Wharf, but little things, like this one, saving the world from danger it doesn't even know exists."

"Yes, Clara, this is what I do. All the time. I stumble into the middle of something, flail about, and pray to whomever might be listening that I can stop it before too many innocents are hurt. It's not pretty, and it's sure as hell not safe, but it's what I do."

"And no one knows? All the times you've saved us from horrible things, and no one knows?" she whispered, awestruck.

"I prefer it that way. I don't like the 'big things'…far too many people are lost on those days. Good people, and bad people, and people who miraculously manage to redeem themselves...and people that I love. Someone that I loved more than life itself was ripped away from me at Canary Wharf. I don't think I could survive that again. This is it. This is what I do...what I am. And I'll understand if it's too much...if you want to go home."

A small hand reached up to delicately stroke unruly hair back from his forehead. "Doctor, look at me. I was scared to death of that thing, but I don't want to leave. I want to help you. I mean, I don't know exactly what use I am, but I can't know that things like this go on around me every day and not help somehow."

"You are more 'use' than you'll ever realize, Clara Oswald. Sometimes...sometimes, all you need is a hand to hold on to." The Doctor smiled through a sudden haze of his own tears, recalling the last person he'd said that to.

"I think I can manage that," Clara replied, extending her hand towards him.

He caught it and gently raised it to his lips before interlacing his fingers with hers. The Doctor leaned back against the bulkhead, carefully tucking his coat about Clara's shoulders, and then settling her against himself. "Are you warm enough?"

A nod and a drowsy little 'mmm' sound were her only replies.

"Do you think you could sleep now?"

"I don't know."

"Just close your eyes. I'm right here...not going anywhere. After all, you can't be expected to help save the world without your beauty sleep. No, wait...that didn't come out right at all. I mean, you certainly don't need beauty sleep. No, not at all. Er, sleep, yes, of course, but not…" His voice trailed off as Clara's delighted giggle bubbled up. He didn't even care that it was at his own expense. Not much, anyway.

"Doctor?" she mumbled sleepily.

"Yes, Clara?"

"D'you think we could take a day off from saving the world? Just a day or so…go someplace nice and quiet…and warm…"

"Yes, I do believe we could manage that. Bend the rules, just this once."

She laughed again, softly, and he felt one diminutive hand curl around his own again. A few moments more, and Clara's breathing had evened out, lulled asleep at last by the beating of his hearts. He dropped a light kiss on the top of her head. "Just you and me, Clara, saving the world. Again."


End file.
